


For An Eternity

by j_gabrielle



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:38:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2437187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_gabrielle/pseuds/j_gabrielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I'm-'m sorry. Can't. Too much." Fitz whines, face twisted helplessly as his hips buck up, knocking schematics and pencil holders, scattering them in some unholy evidence of this moment. Mack has but seconds to wrap his hand around their cocks, rubbing, twisting, slotting his hips in the space made just for him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	For An Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> In my defence, I am sleep-deprived, coming out of my finals and currently swept away in the FitzMack feels.

It is probably the way Fitz looks in the low lights of the lab. Then again, it is just as likely to be the soft broken noises he is making as Mack licks a thick stripe just so from the base of his cock to his piss slit. It could also be the bruises that Fitz will wear on his skin like a badge of pride when they are done. Whatever it is, wherever this sick fire burning deep in his gut comes from, it is working some kind of devil magic in him.

They have barely managed to undress, desperate as they were for skin, heat and release. Mack sends a brief thanks to whatever deity still listening in that he had, by some miracle or grace, managed to coax Fitz out of his pants and shoes, leaving only one of his socks on whilst rumpling his shirt beyond repair. He had barely had time to free his cock from his pants before Fitz had huffed and dug his nails into the flesh of his ass, demanding he got to it.

"T-there. There, there, there..." Fitz chants, spit slicked lips parted, panting. Mack feels him tense under his hands, going taut and coiled. The heels of his feet dig into the muscles of his back, toes curling in delight and pleasure. "Mack! There."

"I got you, Turbo. I got you." Mack coos, teasing his tongue around the head of Fitz's cock. Smirking when the slight friction of his beard against sensitive skin makes Fitz buck and arch off the table, he quickly pins him back down with his hands on his waist. 

"Won't break. Mack. Please." Fitz sighs, reaching to cup Mack's cheeks, bringing him up for a kiss. "Please, Mack."

Mack hums into the gentle nips and licks, sliding his hands around Fitz's waist to hold him close. 'Too much clothes.' His mind complains when his hands sneak under his shirt. Pulling Fitz to a sitting position at the edge of the table, he rolls their groins together. Fitz throws his head back, eyes wide and glassy, mouth opened in a choked scream.

The sight of Fitz in ecstasy, the privilege of being allowed to see him unravel, to be the one that takes him to the precipice and hold that which remains, is something he will never get used to. Mack swallows down the climbing urge to do something, _anything_ to relieve this overwhelming roar in his blood singing for him to love, to hold, to need and have and-

He feels the weight of hands on the back of his head, quiet breathy gasps increasing in frequency, and it is then that he is aware of the slickness between them. "Fitz?"

"I'm-'m sorry. Can't. Too much." Fitz whines, face twisted helplessly as his hips buck up, knocking schematics and pencil holders, scattering them in some unholy evidence of this moment. Mack has but seconds to wrap his hand around their cocks, rubbing, twisting, slotting his hips in the space made just for him. "Mack. Mackmackmackma-"

Fitz comes. Bright eyes unfocused, pale cheeks flush, sweat beads slicking his hair dark. Mack gently lays him back onto the table, wincing at the sound of his spine popping. "I'm close." He says. "May I?"

"Don't. Ask. Just do." Fitz pants, dazed, coming down from his high. Mack smiles, using his hands to pull Fitz's legs to wrap around his waist. 

"Keep them there." He says, bracing his arms against the table. Pushing his nose into the velveteen skin behind his left ear, the secret place that he discovered purely by accident, Mack rolls his hips, thrusting against the flesh of Fitz's belly, made easy by the remnants of pleasure.

Fitz must have said something, must have murmured whilst lost in the pressure and weight of Mack's body moving on top of his, because Mack whites out. And it is an earth shuddering, shaking, oxygen stealing euphoria that leaves him in a state of weightless and being. The feel of Fitz stroking the side of his face, the taste of his lips against his brings him back slowly, though not without mourning the loss of that happy existence.

"Mack. Too much."

"Sorry." Mack answers, pushing himself upright. Fitz follows as he goes, happily nosing the dip at the base of his throat. "Did I hurt you?" He asks, threading his hand not occupied with smoothing circles to Fitz's back, in his hair.

Fitz shakes his head, but Mack knows well enough by now that the man has limits and boundaries that a blurred at best. Gently, he pulls away, moving to divest Fitz of his remaining clothing. He spares a thought for the lost sock, but not for too long. He catches the way the slighter man looks at the mess they made. "Don't worry about it. I'll clear up afterwards." He smiles, leaning to catch his eye.

"It's not that." Fitz says softly. He frowns, searching. Mack waits, quiet as he works the shirt off Fitz. "I-I..." He trails off, looking up at Mack. "Mack. I."

Mack grins, wide and happy. "I know, Turbo. Me too."

"But I want to say it. The words. They're... Important." Fitz whispers, sadness and frustration threaded into his words.

"I don't need them." Mack says, wrapping his arms around him. "I already know them. I hear them everyday when I look at you."

Fitz shakes his head, swallowing visibly. He chuckles wetly, but clings on to Mack, hands fisted at his shoulders. Humming happily, Mack presses kisses to the crown of his head. "Bed?" He asks.

"Your wish is my command." Mack laughs, dipping to slide his arms around Fitz. Hoisting him up in a bridal style, he ignores the inelegant squawk, smiling as he walks them to their quarters.

 

[end.] 


End file.
